


The No Longer Empty House

by nyxviola



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Reunion, silly fluffy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxviola/pseuds/nyxviola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three years it turns out that Sherlock was not dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The No Longer Empty House

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my LJ. Beta and brit-picking by dreximgirl. herlock Holmes belongs to ACD and, in this version, to BBC, Moffat & Gatiss. I own nothing. Not making profit out of this.  
> Warnings: angst with fluffy ending, maybe too fluffy. The omake is meant to be light-heartedly silly.

John feels there is something different just as he turns the key. Once inside, he knows there is someone else there. A soldier knows these things, has to know. There is a faint scent that was not there before, that has never been there. But he knows it. It reminds him of his days in Baker Street, of his days with him. Chemicals snatched from a lab, a hint of cigarette smoke, London fog trapped in the fabric of a scarf, a faint trace of shampoo and something else he cannot place, but he knows it’s the smell of the Baker Street flat. It’s a pleasant smell which makes his heart race.

Eyes wide and nerves on edge, he walks to the centre of the room. And then he sees him. He’s standing, facing the wall, hands clasped behind his back. When he turns around John thinks that he must have finally gone mad. Because he is there, looking only slightly different, paler, thinner. But his eyes are the same icy shade of blue. And John has missed them so much.

John is looking at him like he can’t believe his eyes. He blinks in disbelief and Sherlock just knows he doubts his own sanity.

“You. You’re alive.” It’s barely a whisper out of John’s lips. And Sherlock just nods.

John’s eyes widen. There’s surprise, relief, elation, amazement and even anger mixing wildly in his eyes. All at once. John feels dizzy because it’s too much, too sudden, too good to be true.

“You were…alive. All this time.” John is not caring to keep his voice down. There’s also accusation in his eyes now. Three years of pain, of mind-numbing grief took their toll on him. And after all that, after seeing Sherlock jumping down from the roof, after that good-bye, it’s hard to accept that it was just a trick.

“You. You made me watch! You let me think you had killed yourself! Oh God.” John rubs his forehead, and then covers his eyes in distress. The pain of that day is still part of him. The wound feels still too fresh.

And then there is Sherlock, alive, breathing, as infuriating and unbelievable as ever. Alive. He remembers all the times he had prayed for a miracle. Here it is. His last words still ring in his ears, and here he is.

“Why? Why did you do that?” It’s his first question. John sounds tired, strained.

“I had to. Moriarty had said you would die if I didn’t kill myself…” John looks puzzled, and Sherlock goes on. “He had three gunmen at his orders. One for you. One for Lestrade. One for Mrs Hudson. The only way to prevent them from killing you was letting them think I had killed myself.”

“But you could have let me know!” John’s voice trembles. “You have no idea how I felt! How I’ve been feeling, all this time. I though you were dead, Sherlock. I saw you fall. You fucking killed yourself in front of my eyes! I talked to your grave, Sherlock!”

“I know.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“I know. I saw you. I was there. I wanted to know how you were doing. And I’m…sorry. There was no other way. I couldn’t think of any other way. I didn’t want to… hurt you. If I had told you, I would have put you in danger again.” Sherlock for the first time doesn’t really know what to say.

John shakes his head. “Sherlock, you don’t understand. It was so painful. I thought I had lost everything. I had lost everything. I couldn’t even come near Baker Street! It hurt so much.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I wanted to protect you.”

“Well, thanks. But you know what? There have been nights when I felt so empty and broken that I wanted to shoot myself.”

Sherlock looks down. He can’t stand to look John in the eye, not when he’s confessing that. Because that was his biggest fear.

John covers his eyes with his hand, he knows they’re getting wet with tears. And then he decides he’s had enough. He’s tired. It’s no use arguing now. There will be another time for asking questions, another time to know how in the hell he did it.

“You know I’d like to punch you in the face, don’t you?” he asks, his voice low.

“Yes, I know. I hoped it wouldn’t turn out like this…”

John lets out a shaky, nervous laughter. “Well, what did you expect? You thought I’d forget you in a couple of months? That I’d move on find a nice girl and all that? For all your genius and your brilliant deductions, it looks like you still don’t know everything about me.” John is fighting a battle with himself. He doesn’t know how much he should tell Sherlock, how much he can afford to say.

“I missed you.” Sherlock says. “I wanted to write you. Tell you the truth. But I had to wait…for the right moment.”

John closes the distance between them and throws his arms around Sherlock. He hugs him tight. Sherlock is not used to hugs, but it does not feel uncomfortable.

“I missed you too, you annoying, clever bastard. Don’t you dare walk out of here now. Or I swear I’ll never see you again.” he murmurs.

And Sherlock knows John is serious, because there is a desperate edge to his voice that makes it lower, dangerous somehow. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

Omake:

“So, you’re staying here now.”

“John, you do know there is only one bed here…” Sherlock points out lightly.

“Yeah, well, it’s your fault I couldn’t stay in Baker Street…”

And Sherlock knows he can finally afford a smile. A real one. The first in three years.


End file.
